((Originally played out in the Market Place 01-01-2008 @ 4.00 EST))
Izira walked along, keeping a pace that kept her at Alain's side... having been silent since leaving the inn.
Alain walks along with Izira. Once certain they are alone, which he checks with subtle glances over his shoulder every so often and careful listening, he speaks. "So what's on your mind?"
"I want to know if you can take on a case for me. Just you. I... don't want anyone else involved."
"I can do that," he says with surprisingly little hesitation. It's not the first time he's kept Cassie in the dark.
A relieved smile passed across her face. Then vanished again, "I know this might sound... simple? But... I need you to find out what type of being my father was."
He looks at her, and then the road ahead of them, strolling slowly. An outside observer who does not listen would be forced to assume their conversation is casual. "What can you tell me about him?"
"Not a lot. My... mother's husband killed him when he caught them at their affair. My mother knew him as a traveling minstrel... but... " She bit her lower lip, not sure how to explain.
"...A letter might be easier for you to explain things, and I'll be sure to destroy it once I'm done. If you can give me a name, places he used to visit... I'll see what I can piece together about him."
She gave him little nod. "Alain, I have to confess to you... I am more than I appear. It would not be right of me to ask you to do this. Whoever my father was... he was not ordinary, and neither am I. Fire... runs through my veins, my being. And... the path leading to my past has many bodies upon it."
"Izira..." Little tightening of his lips. "It's my job. Now, if I get shot at or nearly blown up, you may incur some nasty fees..." Bit of a teasing grin, though he continues, "...But I'll be careful, just the same." Eyes remain upon her a moment longer than they have to, now curious himself what sort of being she is.
"I will write you a letter." A nod. Perhaps it seemed like she wanted to touch him, but she did not... instead she gave another soft smile, "Enjoy the new year, I guess." And made her way out of the market place.
He looks after her a moment, then ducks his head to light a cigarette... and raises his eyes to watch her leave.
*Alain Takes Izira's Case
Moderators: Gren Blockman, Izira Nyte
-
Izira Nyte
- Adventurer
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon May 12, 2008 10:09 pm
- Location: At the Forgotten Layers Inn.
- Contact:
*Alain Takes Izira's Case
Last edited by Izira Nyte on Tue Oct 01, 2013 11:41 pm, edited 1 time in total.
-
Izira Nyte
- Adventurer
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon May 12, 2008 10:09 pm
- Location: At the Forgotten Layers Inn.
- Contact:
((Written the night after she departed from him at the Market Place, Sent to him the following day.))
The raven remained perched in the upper branches of a barren tree that stood along the path between Alain's residence and place of work. It nestled there silently and therefore could be easily missed by anyone. Though, if noticed, two items would stand out. Firstly, this bird was nearly twice as large as the common ravens. Secondly, within the bird's beak was held a tarnished silver envelope. The bird sat and waited, watching as people and other beings went by. Were it troubled by anything, the raven would take wing and return once trouble had gone. When Alain walked pass the bird's head would cant as if considering the man. If Alain was not alone, the bird would remain within the tree. Once Alain passed without company the bird would glide down, large wings keeping it held in the air in front of the man just above his reach... allowing a few heartbeats to pass before dropping the envelope it carried into Alain's care.
Inspecting the outside of the letter: It was not address to anyone. The back fold sealed with a deep red wax, imprinted with the image of a flame.
Inside the envelope held a letter. The curving handwriting was easily legible, flowing in even neat lines.
Alain,
As I sit down and prepare to tell you all I can, I feel as though I am writing my own confession. In my knowledge, there is only one other who can tell you much about my childhood... as most who were part of it have crossed through the veil. It is my hope that what I tell you now will guide you in the search that will allow me to know my true nature.
Understand, please, that for the first seven years of my life I did not know there was anything different about me. I lived in a small cottage, in the middle of the woods far away from the world and those in it. The closest town, Delvain, was several days away. All that existed in my world for the longest time was my mother and the man that I thought to be my father. My last name was Noir... my mother's maiden name is Nyte.
That man was not a kind man. He was not harsh with hand, but cold in nature and word. When he was away working in the woods my mother blossomed. She sang and told me stories of those creatures that lived in realms near her home of Nihain, a small village in Aulan. When her husband was around, she withered. Quiet and removed, a vessel responding automatically to commands. As a child I thought perhaps my father would have loved me if I did not look so much like her. Until I found out why it was he truly hated me.
My loneliness was spared for a while. One day in the woods I met a lad a little older than myself, Xander Dyrhart. We had to meet in secret, but it was a delight having someone to talk to. Though, my mother's heath soon kept me from seeing him. When I told him I would not be able to visit he gave me a token... a little pewter ring. This detail might seem trivial now, but I am not hiding anything from you, Alain, and so this too I must confess,
During my seventh year my mother was so stricken that she could not leave her bed. I took up care of the home, but as hard as I tried I could never earn my father's favor. He started being gone longer, and I was often alone watching my mother die.
The day of her death was a dark one. Father had been gone for several days and again I was along at her side. I remember her turning to me, her hand reaching out, and her lips forming word her voice would not make. I clung to her hand, straining and hoping to pull whatever my mother's last wish or will into understanding. My need was so great...
Images filled my mind and I saw my mother's life.... relived in vague understanding for the most part. A regular childhood with her parents and siblings, childhood friends, men who had courted her. It had not been her wish to marry the man I knew as my father, but she did it for the honor of her family. As the images progressed the emotions my mother felt became real and solid to me. She had been lonely. Bound by duty. Unloved by the man her father had given her to. Her husband had started an inn, called The Travelers’ Way, many miles away from her family, and moved her in there. The only company she kept was those of the patrons she waited on, and many of them were only stopping during travels from one place to another. There were a few regulars... and one that stood out amongst the rest. He came and sang songs for those who were gathered. His voice was gifted by the gods themselves and his words wove images of tales in your mind. He was a tall man, he almost looked to have a touch of fae to him. But he would laugh such a notion off. Fehalix Forrows, he claimed to be. He always had a kind word or a gift for my mother. Somehow through his many visits she grew to love him. It happened some night, her husband was called away and the minstrel found his way to her bed. She did not refuse him. She gave herself entirely to the traveling stranger, feeling with him something she had never felt with the man she called husband for nearly ten years. It happened several times. Eventually my mother fell pregnant. It was possible that her husband was the father... but in her heart she knew he wasn't. It had been many years, after all, without child. She told her husband though, and treated it as though it was his. Months went by, her pregnancy staring to show, when next her lover visited her. Again, her husband was gone... and her lover rejoiced at the news of the life that she carried. They were resting in each other's arms when her husband returned. Without warning he grabbed the man from her arms and ran his blade along the man's throat. Rivers of blood ran through my mind, the sensation of such loss.
The hate in her husband's eyes. The same echo I saw everyday throughout my life. He had not killed her, though he wanted to. He spared her for the life of an innocent. But he did not spare her entirely. That is why they moved so far away, from everything. Her life would now become her punishment for making him the fool. That is why he hated me... I looked too much like her and nothing like him or the lover. He could never tell whose child I truly was.
When my mind came to me again, my mother was dead.
I left the house, blinded by tears. I ran into the woods, hoping to find my friend Xander. It was his house I was trying to find... but it was my father that I came across. He with his arm about a young woman, leading her into a small cabin at the edge of the woods. My heart stopped and I was filled with rage. He had made my mother suffer for so long, and here he was committing the same crime. How could he know if his wife was dead? But then again why would he care? I followed them. I went into the house after them. There was an exchange. He asked me what I was doing there and I told him mother had died. He didn't even care. He told me to leave but I could not. For the first time ever he raised his hand to hit me. And that was the last thing he ever did.
I felt the rushing of fire. I did not understand what had happened, only that I was the cause of it. The cabin was consumed by fire. My mother's husband and his lover trapped inside. I ran, not noticing that at some point I had lost the ring given to me by Xander.
Many years went by. Many things happened. Several incidents wherein the flame has consumed me and damage was done. I do not include these stories in this letter because they have little to do with my birth. But know that if you want that information, I will freely give it. I do not know if it is my father's blood or those things that I have gone through, but at times madness has taken me.
That is why I now stay well away from people for the most part. I do not wish to be the bringer of more damage.
Xander is alive. Ten years ago he found me and confronted me. The ring he had given me left at the scene of the deaths of his mother and the man who had become like a father to him. The same man, who never gave me such love and attention, had given it to this random lad. Xander had come for answers and with a willingness to kill me. I told him that which I have just shared with you... and he spared me. I do not know where Xander is now... nor if he would be any help to you. I don't know if any of these details I have shared will be helpful to you. Perhaps I have shared too much.
Izira Nyte
Behind the letter was a hand drawn map. A way for him to find her at her home The Forgotten Layers Inn from the Red Dragon Inn.
The raven remained perched in the upper branches of a barren tree that stood along the path between Alain's residence and place of work. It nestled there silently and therefore could be easily missed by anyone. Though, if noticed, two items would stand out. Firstly, this bird was nearly twice as large as the common ravens. Secondly, within the bird's beak was held a tarnished silver envelope. The bird sat and waited, watching as people and other beings went by. Were it troubled by anything, the raven would take wing and return once trouble had gone. When Alain walked pass the bird's head would cant as if considering the man. If Alain was not alone, the bird would remain within the tree. Once Alain passed without company the bird would glide down, large wings keeping it held in the air in front of the man just above his reach... allowing a few heartbeats to pass before dropping the envelope it carried into Alain's care.
Inspecting the outside of the letter: It was not address to anyone. The back fold sealed with a deep red wax, imprinted with the image of a flame.
Inside the envelope held a letter. The curving handwriting was easily legible, flowing in even neat lines.
Alain,
As I sit down and prepare to tell you all I can, I feel as though I am writing my own confession. In my knowledge, there is only one other who can tell you much about my childhood... as most who were part of it have crossed through the veil. It is my hope that what I tell you now will guide you in the search that will allow me to know my true nature.
Understand, please, that for the first seven years of my life I did not know there was anything different about me. I lived in a small cottage, in the middle of the woods far away from the world and those in it. The closest town, Delvain, was several days away. All that existed in my world for the longest time was my mother and the man that I thought to be my father. My last name was Noir... my mother's maiden name is Nyte.
That man was not a kind man. He was not harsh with hand, but cold in nature and word. When he was away working in the woods my mother blossomed. She sang and told me stories of those creatures that lived in realms near her home of Nihain, a small village in Aulan. When her husband was around, she withered. Quiet and removed, a vessel responding automatically to commands. As a child I thought perhaps my father would have loved me if I did not look so much like her. Until I found out why it was he truly hated me.
My loneliness was spared for a while. One day in the woods I met a lad a little older than myself, Xander Dyrhart. We had to meet in secret, but it was a delight having someone to talk to. Though, my mother's heath soon kept me from seeing him. When I told him I would not be able to visit he gave me a token... a little pewter ring. This detail might seem trivial now, but I am not hiding anything from you, Alain, and so this too I must confess,
During my seventh year my mother was so stricken that she could not leave her bed. I took up care of the home, but as hard as I tried I could never earn my father's favor. He started being gone longer, and I was often alone watching my mother die.
The day of her death was a dark one. Father had been gone for several days and again I was along at her side. I remember her turning to me, her hand reaching out, and her lips forming word her voice would not make. I clung to her hand, straining and hoping to pull whatever my mother's last wish or will into understanding. My need was so great...
Images filled my mind and I saw my mother's life.... relived in vague understanding for the most part. A regular childhood with her parents and siblings, childhood friends, men who had courted her. It had not been her wish to marry the man I knew as my father, but she did it for the honor of her family. As the images progressed the emotions my mother felt became real and solid to me. She had been lonely. Bound by duty. Unloved by the man her father had given her to. Her husband had started an inn, called The Travelers’ Way, many miles away from her family, and moved her in there. The only company she kept was those of the patrons she waited on, and many of them were only stopping during travels from one place to another. There were a few regulars... and one that stood out amongst the rest. He came and sang songs for those who were gathered. His voice was gifted by the gods themselves and his words wove images of tales in your mind. He was a tall man, he almost looked to have a touch of fae to him. But he would laugh such a notion off. Fehalix Forrows, he claimed to be. He always had a kind word or a gift for my mother. Somehow through his many visits she grew to love him. It happened some night, her husband was called away and the minstrel found his way to her bed. She did not refuse him. She gave herself entirely to the traveling stranger, feeling with him something she had never felt with the man she called husband for nearly ten years. It happened several times. Eventually my mother fell pregnant. It was possible that her husband was the father... but in her heart she knew he wasn't. It had been many years, after all, without child. She told her husband though, and treated it as though it was his. Months went by, her pregnancy staring to show, when next her lover visited her. Again, her husband was gone... and her lover rejoiced at the news of the life that she carried. They were resting in each other's arms when her husband returned. Without warning he grabbed the man from her arms and ran his blade along the man's throat. Rivers of blood ran through my mind, the sensation of such loss.
The hate in her husband's eyes. The same echo I saw everyday throughout my life. He had not killed her, though he wanted to. He spared her for the life of an innocent. But he did not spare her entirely. That is why they moved so far away, from everything. Her life would now become her punishment for making him the fool. That is why he hated me... I looked too much like her and nothing like him or the lover. He could never tell whose child I truly was.
When my mind came to me again, my mother was dead.
I left the house, blinded by tears. I ran into the woods, hoping to find my friend Xander. It was his house I was trying to find... but it was my father that I came across. He with his arm about a young woman, leading her into a small cabin at the edge of the woods. My heart stopped and I was filled with rage. He had made my mother suffer for so long, and here he was committing the same crime. How could he know if his wife was dead? But then again why would he care? I followed them. I went into the house after them. There was an exchange. He asked me what I was doing there and I told him mother had died. He didn't even care. He told me to leave but I could not. For the first time ever he raised his hand to hit me. And that was the last thing he ever did.
I felt the rushing of fire. I did not understand what had happened, only that I was the cause of it. The cabin was consumed by fire. My mother's husband and his lover trapped inside. I ran, not noticing that at some point I had lost the ring given to me by Xander.
Many years went by. Many things happened. Several incidents wherein the flame has consumed me and damage was done. I do not include these stories in this letter because they have little to do with my birth. But know that if you want that information, I will freely give it. I do not know if it is my father's blood or those things that I have gone through, but at times madness has taken me.
That is why I now stay well away from people for the most part. I do not wish to be the bringer of more damage.
Xander is alive. Ten years ago he found me and confronted me. The ring he had given me left at the scene of the deaths of his mother and the man who had become like a father to him. The same man, who never gave me such love and attention, had given it to this random lad. Xander had come for answers and with a willingness to kill me. I told him that which I have just shared with you... and he spared me. I do not know where Xander is now... nor if he would be any help to you. I don't know if any of these details I have shared will be helpful to you. Perhaps I have shared too much.
Izira Nyte
Behind the letter was a hand drawn map. A way for him to find her at her home The Forgotten Layers Inn from the Red Dragon Inn.
-
Izira Nyte
- Adventurer
- Posts: 102
- Joined: Mon May 12, 2008 10:09 pm
- Location: At the Forgotten Layers Inn.
- Contact:
((Alain D'Mourir visits Izira Nyte at her home, The Fogotten Layers Inn, after finishing a case for her. Played out originally in IM.))
~
Alain showed up at Izira's inn sometime late in the morning, the slowest time for bars and inns - shouldn't be too surprising if there are no other patrons at all. A cloth-wrapped book in tow.
Izira's place was rarely busy anyway. Such was the case with being in a place that seemed to exist between places. The perfect inn for those lost and wandering. Or lost and lingering as the owner was. Given the time there would be no one about but her. Still the door opened for those who arrived there. The lights inside were dimmed low. The tables spread out before the door, booths to the side and a bar across the way. Towards the back right, where there sat almost a little chapel of a room, Izira sat under the lights softly playing the piano. An orange tabby cat was sitting on the bench near her. The two ravens perched high in their huge cage above her head.
He pauses, watching her... and then moves quietly across the room. Pulling up a chair nearby, taking a seat, balancing the book on his thigh... Letting her play, for now.
Eventually reaching the end of the song, she sighed... collecting herself and turned to offer Alain an apologetic smile. "Thank you for letting me finish."
He smiles gently. "It felt wrong to interrupt." He holds her gaze for a few seconds, and then looks down at the book. Fingering the cloth quietly, thoughtfully. "...I found your father."
The idea seemed to be too much for Izira to completely take in, she looked at what Alain held... a lump in her throat for what else Alain would have to share, still she tried to be jovial, "Don't suppose the two of you had much to talk about..." A weak smile, it was a pour joke... bad timing. She knew it. Silas, the large orange tabby flicked his tail in irritation from his spot on the bench.
Alain shakes his head. "I... saw to his care..." Watching her face again, one hand laid palm up on his knee while he talks to her. "...His name was Lief... he was Ny'Halian... fae-like elementals who live pretty far from the city."
She listened, then was quiet a moment, thinking... somewhere in her years of being shut away and reading there was some general information there... her face paled a little. "Then I still have no family." Her voice low, saddened. Silas' ear flicked. Izira's hands had been brought from the piano to her lap.
"...I see a few brothers and sisters..." His voice is surprisingly gentle, as his gaze flickers to her animal companions, then back to her. Offering the book over slowly. "This... may help you sort out your powers..." Two books, actually, wrapped up in there. One of them is a dilapidated library book on the Ny'Halian language - the linguist who studied them, naturally, ended up hating them.
A small nod, accepting the books into her care. Eyes glancing over the covers and pages as she drifted through the pages. Then keeping them in one hand the other went to take Alain's with a little squeeze. Another apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Alain. This can't have been the easiest request made of you, I should be more grateful. I do appreciate it."
He encloses her hand in both of his, slowly. Shaking his head. "I was just doing my job... and I know how important family can be." Tone still gentle and tender, the battered (but still not quite destroyed) human in his heart stirring with compassion.
She swallowed, looking down. "Yes." then quiet lingered a moment... "Your own must be very proud of you." She offered, hoping to take her mind away from her own sorrows onto something cheerful.
He pauses - he's made himself vulnerable through his compassion, and the usually stoic face betrays a flurry of emotions (uncertainty among them), before he finally speaks. "I'm not sure why... I was a rotten kid - but my mother was always very proud of me."
A soft smile, she set the books aside, putting her other hand over his two. "Mothers can be like that, even when you give them enough reasons not to be."
He grins slowly. "...I think she was the only one, other than my sister, Shannon, who just smiled at the trouble I got into." There's a soft chuckle. "Before I was even a teenager, I was kissing too many girls, skipping cotillion, and sneaking in after missing dinner..." A pause, then adding, "Shannon and our friend Amalia tried to keep me out of as much trouble as I got them into."
Izira's smile faintly found its way to her face, a soft chuckle at the thought of the trouble a teenager Alain might have gotten into. "Sounds like an interesting trio."
"Amalia's here in RhyDin... but..." He doesn't explain. "Shannon and I still see each other, sometimes..." He slips his hands from hers, finally. Rubbing them together slowly. "You want some coffee?" Whether or not she wants some, he's intent on a mug for himself.
"I'll get it." She stood, it was her place after all. Standing and moving towards the bar, she slipped behind and went straight to the coffee... looking through the selection. She picked something for them, setting it to warm as she took down a couple of mugs. "Do you take anything in it?"
Faint shake of his head, and, "I take it black." Still itching for a cigarette... hopefully the coffee will cure it... He's looking thoughtfully at the tattoo on his right hand now, though thinking of far more than just his family seal. Brow delicately knit.
Looking back over her shoulder to him, "Is... something wrong?"
He shakes his head again. "Just thinking." Always going with that defensive impulse to close himself off...
Pouring the coffee into two mugs, She spoke not facing him. "I won't pry, Alain... but... you do know quite a bit about me that no one else does."
He strokes the tattoo slowly, choosing his words carefully. Slight tilt to his head. "...There are a lot of things I wish I could go back and do better... There's little left of my family, and I didn't part ways with many of them on the best terms."
Bringing the coffee back to him, she handed him a mug. Still standing. Thinking about all her bad partings. She didn't want to lessen his though by making comparisons. "Tell me?"
"My mother and I, I think... are the only ones who parted well. She became ill and died when I was still young... but when she died, she was still proud of me." Shaking his head. "My father and I never got along. I didn't see him at all for six years... and I'm told he's dead now." Nursing his coffee quietly for a bit.
"I'm sorry Alain." Not knowing was indeed hard.
He breathes out a slow sigh, and then shakes his head, slightly. "...I'm okay." Another sip of his coffee. "Shannon's alive - safe - that's what matters." Running his thumb slowly over the burn scars on his palm. He pauses again, thinking. "I wish I could have a family... you know. Start one of my own. ...But I can't. My lifestyle's too dangerous for it, but I can't give it up."
She smiled weakly at that. Hard to encourage someone when she had pretty much given up, locked herself up in an empty inn for ten years.
"If other people get a chance to go on living and start a family, pursue whatever dreams they have, on account of me..." He shrugs his shoulders slightly, and with another sigh, relaxes his posture again. Looking up at her. "Then it's worth it... isn't it?"
She didn't actually know if it was the right answer, but it was the best one. "It is." She nodded. Then moved to pet Silas, still on the piano. It was the best way to turn away a moment. He had helped her... but she wasn't really moving on, was she? She felt a failure at helping his life continue its purpose.
He hadn't meant her... but there's no way for her to know that. Worth it or not, he's still quiet and uncertain. Nursing his coffee. He shakes his head again. "Sorry to unload all of that on you... It was unfair of me."
Turning to face him again. "I asked. Besides. It's been a while since I've actually had any meaningful conversation with someone." A sigh, she sat back down on the piano bench. Silas hopping down and trotting off, tail in the air. She added, "Except maybe with Silas."
He smiles just a little at that, watching Silas move off. "I talk to Jean sometimes, but he doesn't speak English... and my French is terrible." Lame joke, but he grins anyway.
A smile, at least, at the joke, if not a laugh. Then looking away again.
"Has it really been... just you, all this time?" Looking over at her, curiously.
Softly. "Ten years." Not that she was counting.
His lips twist slightly. Another pause. "You think someday you'll be able to change that?" There's comforting him, sure... but the truth is what he's after. Eyes flicker to the book.
A sigh. "I don't know. The hopeful response would be, yes... but... sometimes I feel beyond hope. I've done too much, hurt too many to deserve anything different." It wasn't said emotionally, just factually.
"I know how you feel," he admits, quietly. "But if you feel you've sinned... it's hard to repent when you're all alone."
"I don't know about repenting. It's just easier to keep myself from doing it again tucked away. This place found me, it knew my heart and brought me here... a place for things to be forgotten."
There's little to say to that. It was a path he'd considered... "...If you do change your mind... know there are friends for you in RhyDin." He finishes his coffee, sets the mug down.
A smile, she set her coffee down. Not really having touched it. "At least one then?"
"At least one." He puts his coat back on, tugging on the collar some, turning it up to ward off the cold. "Take care, Izira." He moves towards the door.
Standing and walking with him, she touched his hand as they neared the door. "You too, Alain." Her eyes upon his own.
He squeezes her hand when she stops him. His heart does a little leap, perhaps a leap of warning, but it does not linger. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Truly?"
He nods, slowly.
A swallow, she leaned the distance between them placing her lips against his own. It was not passionate, more a soft need.
He sucks in a breath when she moves, but only lets her fulfill that need for a moment. Turning his face away after that moment. "You know that..." Trailing off. You know that I can't? Maybe. For whatever reason, though he turns his face away, he did not back away nor did he push her hand in his away from him, maybe out of consideration for her.
She took her hand back, taking a step and turning away from him. Quietly. "I know..."
"Almost anything," he amends quietly, belatedly. Soft sigh breathed. "...Be well, Izira." He lifts his head to look at her... and leaves.
Izira didn't turn to watch him leave, or offer anything back. Just considered that she really knew how to chase away what few friends she could make.
~
Alain showed up at Izira's inn sometime late in the morning, the slowest time for bars and inns - shouldn't be too surprising if there are no other patrons at all. A cloth-wrapped book in tow.
Izira's place was rarely busy anyway. Such was the case with being in a place that seemed to exist between places. The perfect inn for those lost and wandering. Or lost and lingering as the owner was. Given the time there would be no one about but her. Still the door opened for those who arrived there. The lights inside were dimmed low. The tables spread out before the door, booths to the side and a bar across the way. Towards the back right, where there sat almost a little chapel of a room, Izira sat under the lights softly playing the piano. An orange tabby cat was sitting on the bench near her. The two ravens perched high in their huge cage above her head.
He pauses, watching her... and then moves quietly across the room. Pulling up a chair nearby, taking a seat, balancing the book on his thigh... Letting her play, for now.
Eventually reaching the end of the song, she sighed... collecting herself and turned to offer Alain an apologetic smile. "Thank you for letting me finish."
He smiles gently. "It felt wrong to interrupt." He holds her gaze for a few seconds, and then looks down at the book. Fingering the cloth quietly, thoughtfully. "...I found your father."
The idea seemed to be too much for Izira to completely take in, she looked at what Alain held... a lump in her throat for what else Alain would have to share, still she tried to be jovial, "Don't suppose the two of you had much to talk about..." A weak smile, it was a pour joke... bad timing. She knew it. Silas, the large orange tabby flicked his tail in irritation from his spot on the bench.
Alain shakes his head. "I... saw to his care..." Watching her face again, one hand laid palm up on his knee while he talks to her. "...His name was Lief... he was Ny'Halian... fae-like elementals who live pretty far from the city."
She listened, then was quiet a moment, thinking... somewhere in her years of being shut away and reading there was some general information there... her face paled a little. "Then I still have no family." Her voice low, saddened. Silas' ear flicked. Izira's hands had been brought from the piano to her lap.
"...I see a few brothers and sisters..." His voice is surprisingly gentle, as his gaze flickers to her animal companions, then back to her. Offering the book over slowly. "This... may help you sort out your powers..." Two books, actually, wrapped up in there. One of them is a dilapidated library book on the Ny'Halian language - the linguist who studied them, naturally, ended up hating them.
A small nod, accepting the books into her care. Eyes glancing over the covers and pages as she drifted through the pages. Then keeping them in one hand the other went to take Alain's with a little squeeze. Another apologetic smile. "Forgive me, Alain. This can't have been the easiest request made of you, I should be more grateful. I do appreciate it."
He encloses her hand in both of his, slowly. Shaking his head. "I was just doing my job... and I know how important family can be." Tone still gentle and tender, the battered (but still not quite destroyed) human in his heart stirring with compassion.
She swallowed, looking down. "Yes." then quiet lingered a moment... "Your own must be very proud of you." She offered, hoping to take her mind away from her own sorrows onto something cheerful.
He pauses - he's made himself vulnerable through his compassion, and the usually stoic face betrays a flurry of emotions (uncertainty among them), before he finally speaks. "I'm not sure why... I was a rotten kid - but my mother was always very proud of me."
A soft smile, she set the books aside, putting her other hand over his two. "Mothers can be like that, even when you give them enough reasons not to be."
He grins slowly. "...I think she was the only one, other than my sister, Shannon, who just smiled at the trouble I got into." There's a soft chuckle. "Before I was even a teenager, I was kissing too many girls, skipping cotillion, and sneaking in after missing dinner..." A pause, then adding, "Shannon and our friend Amalia tried to keep me out of as much trouble as I got them into."
Izira's smile faintly found its way to her face, a soft chuckle at the thought of the trouble a teenager Alain might have gotten into. "Sounds like an interesting trio."
"Amalia's here in RhyDin... but..." He doesn't explain. "Shannon and I still see each other, sometimes..." He slips his hands from hers, finally. Rubbing them together slowly. "You want some coffee?" Whether or not she wants some, he's intent on a mug for himself.
"I'll get it." She stood, it was her place after all. Standing and moving towards the bar, she slipped behind and went straight to the coffee... looking through the selection. She picked something for them, setting it to warm as she took down a couple of mugs. "Do you take anything in it?"
Faint shake of his head, and, "I take it black." Still itching for a cigarette... hopefully the coffee will cure it... He's looking thoughtfully at the tattoo on his right hand now, though thinking of far more than just his family seal. Brow delicately knit.
Looking back over her shoulder to him, "Is... something wrong?"
He shakes his head again. "Just thinking." Always going with that defensive impulse to close himself off...
Pouring the coffee into two mugs, She spoke not facing him. "I won't pry, Alain... but... you do know quite a bit about me that no one else does."
He strokes the tattoo slowly, choosing his words carefully. Slight tilt to his head. "...There are a lot of things I wish I could go back and do better... There's little left of my family, and I didn't part ways with many of them on the best terms."
Bringing the coffee back to him, she handed him a mug. Still standing. Thinking about all her bad partings. She didn't want to lessen his though by making comparisons. "Tell me?"
"My mother and I, I think... are the only ones who parted well. She became ill and died when I was still young... but when she died, she was still proud of me." Shaking his head. "My father and I never got along. I didn't see him at all for six years... and I'm told he's dead now." Nursing his coffee quietly for a bit.
"I'm sorry Alain." Not knowing was indeed hard.
He breathes out a slow sigh, and then shakes his head, slightly. "...I'm okay." Another sip of his coffee. "Shannon's alive - safe - that's what matters." Running his thumb slowly over the burn scars on his palm. He pauses again, thinking. "I wish I could have a family... you know. Start one of my own. ...But I can't. My lifestyle's too dangerous for it, but I can't give it up."
She smiled weakly at that. Hard to encourage someone when she had pretty much given up, locked herself up in an empty inn for ten years.
"If other people get a chance to go on living and start a family, pursue whatever dreams they have, on account of me..." He shrugs his shoulders slightly, and with another sigh, relaxes his posture again. Looking up at her. "Then it's worth it... isn't it?"
She didn't actually know if it was the right answer, but it was the best one. "It is." She nodded. Then moved to pet Silas, still on the piano. It was the best way to turn away a moment. He had helped her... but she wasn't really moving on, was she? She felt a failure at helping his life continue its purpose.
He hadn't meant her... but there's no way for her to know that. Worth it or not, he's still quiet and uncertain. Nursing his coffee. He shakes his head again. "Sorry to unload all of that on you... It was unfair of me."
Turning to face him again. "I asked. Besides. It's been a while since I've actually had any meaningful conversation with someone." A sigh, she sat back down on the piano bench. Silas hopping down and trotting off, tail in the air. She added, "Except maybe with Silas."
He smiles just a little at that, watching Silas move off. "I talk to Jean sometimes, but he doesn't speak English... and my French is terrible." Lame joke, but he grins anyway.
A smile, at least, at the joke, if not a laugh. Then looking away again.
"Has it really been... just you, all this time?" Looking over at her, curiously.
Softly. "Ten years." Not that she was counting.
His lips twist slightly. Another pause. "You think someday you'll be able to change that?" There's comforting him, sure... but the truth is what he's after. Eyes flicker to the book.
A sigh. "I don't know. The hopeful response would be, yes... but... sometimes I feel beyond hope. I've done too much, hurt too many to deserve anything different." It wasn't said emotionally, just factually.
"I know how you feel," he admits, quietly. "But if you feel you've sinned... it's hard to repent when you're all alone."
"I don't know about repenting. It's just easier to keep myself from doing it again tucked away. This place found me, it knew my heart and brought me here... a place for things to be forgotten."
There's little to say to that. It was a path he'd considered... "...If you do change your mind... know there are friends for you in RhyDin." He finishes his coffee, sets the mug down.
A smile, she set her coffee down. Not really having touched it. "At least one then?"
"At least one." He puts his coat back on, tugging on the collar some, turning it up to ward off the cold. "Take care, Izira." He moves towards the door.
Standing and walking with him, she touched his hand as they neared the door. "You too, Alain." Her eyes upon his own.
He squeezes her hand when she stops him. His heart does a little leap, perhaps a leap of warning, but it does not linger. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Truly?"
He nods, slowly.
A swallow, she leaned the distance between them placing her lips against his own. It was not passionate, more a soft need.
He sucks in a breath when she moves, but only lets her fulfill that need for a moment. Turning his face away after that moment. "You know that..." Trailing off. You know that I can't? Maybe. For whatever reason, though he turns his face away, he did not back away nor did he push her hand in his away from him, maybe out of consideration for her.
She took her hand back, taking a step and turning away from him. Quietly. "I know..."
"Almost anything," he amends quietly, belatedly. Soft sigh breathed. "...Be well, Izira." He lifts his head to look at her... and leaves.
Izira didn't turn to watch him leave, or offer anything back. Just considered that she really knew how to chase away what few friends she could make.
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